Current interests include: Hatoful Boyfriend, Dangan Ronpa, Telltale's TWAU and TWD, and zombies. All the zombies.
If you want me to see anything, I track the tag dktragonizer
“In my spare time, I go to parks, cafés, and even bars, where I fold paper roses and give them out. I like handing them out for free—I think people need something free every once in awhile.”
“What’s your favorite part about doing this?”
“What I enjoy the most is seeing an innocent, childlike reaction on an adult’s face: ‘Oh, here‘s something free and there’s no gimmick.’ Of course, some people are suspicious, and I can understand why. Sometimes people join me and start folding paper with me, or someone tells me that they’ve had a really bad night, and I cheered them up.
“Once in a while, someone tries to give me money. I try my best to say, ‘Pass it forward. Do another good deed’, because otherwise it ends in a circle instead of making a spiral. Sometimes that’s the only way people know how to thank you, though. One time an Albanian woman insisted that I take a dollar. She would’ve gotten upset if I hadn’t, and her husband said, ‘Some people just want to thank you that way.’ So now I know when to accept money, which I use to buy more paper.”
did you hear the one about the florists?
there are two florists - normal guys, just selling flowers in their town. they do well, make an honest living, business is blooming, things seem great. a few months later, two friars move in. the friars decide to become florists themselves. months go by and eventually, the townspeople decide they prefer buying their flowers from men of god. the two original florists lose a lot of business and fall into hard times.
they decide to change things. the original florists go talk to the friars and ask them nicely to leave, but nothing happens. so the original florists decide to beat the crap out of the friars. they go to beat the crap out of the friars, but, surprise! the friars beat the crap out of them instead. the original florists dont know what to do.
so they hire a mercenary named hugh. hugh starts politely, like the original florists did, and tries to get the friars to leave peacefully. they dont respond well. hugh eventually has enough of their nonsense and goes to beat the friars up. he kicks the crap out of them and scares the friars out of the town. the original florists begin making money again and everything returns to normal. all is well.
anyway, the point of the story is that only hugh can prevent florist friars.
(Edd is my fav brother of the Night’s Watch, for snark-related reasons.)
There’s a far-off place that consists of a perfectly triangular lake surrounded by land, with three kingdoms on the three sides of the lake. the first kingdom is rich and powerful, filled with wealthy, prosperous people. the second kingdom is more humble, but has its fair share of wealth and power, too. the third kingdom is struggling and poor, and barely has an army.
the kingdoms eventually go to war over control of the lake, as it’s a valuable resource to have. the first kingdom sends 100 of their finest knights, clad in the best armor and each with their own personal squire. the second kingdom sends 50 of their knights, with fine leather armor and a few dozen squires of their own. the third kingdom sends their one and only knight, an elderly warrior who has long since passed his prime, with his own personal squire.
the night before the big battle, the knights in the first kingdom drink and make merry, partying into the late hours of the night. the knights in the second kingdom aren’t as well off, but have their own supply of grog and also drink late into the night. in the third camp, the faithful squire gets a rope and slings it over the branch of a tall tree, making a noose, and hangs a pot from it. he fills the pot with stew and has a humble dinner with the old knight.
the next morning, the knights in the first two kingdoms are hung over and unable to fight, while the knight in the third kingdom is old and weary, unable to get up. in place of the knights, the squires from all three kingdoms go and fight. the battle lasts long into the night, but by the time the dust settled, only one squire was left standing - the squire from the third kingdom.
and it just goes to show you that the squire of the high pot and noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides
this is the longest fucking set up for a pun I’ve ever seen and I’m so mad at you
welcome to dencon, on your birthday you get an extra hour in the pit.
dENNY’S YOU DIDN’T
What is a “gypsy”?
Some will have you believe that simply moving frequently, or wearing boho-esque clothing will make you a “gypsy”. I have read countless websites about Pagan “gypsy” magic, and articles on how to dress “gypsy”. I’m here to tell you; you’re doing it wrong!
So, you want to be a “gypsy”? Well, you can’t. Not only are you not a “gypsy”, but you can never become a “gypsy”.
This little word, “gypsy”, makes my skin crawl. It causes aches in my heart and beats at my soul. I die a little inside everytime I must say or write the word.
"Gypsy" is a racial slur. It is tantamount to the "N" word.
Like the “N” word, “gypsy” was created by people who believed we were sub-human and enslaved us. “Gypsies” were slaves?
These “gypsies” you speak of are actually people who belong to the Romani ethnicity. We are an ethnic minority with no nation, no homeland. We trace our ancestry back to Rajasthan in India and parts of what is now Pakistan. This is not speculative. There is no more question as to where “gypsies” came from. This has been proven through extensive DNA and linguistic studies.
You cannot be “gypsy”. You cannot wake up one day, start moving around, and call yourself a “gypsy”. How many people say they want to be African American, or Asian? They don’t. It’s an impossibility.
White female youth pay large sums of money to dress “gypsy”, or what they call boho. Well, Bohemia is a region of the Czech Republic. You cannot be Bohemian either, unless of course you are Czech. There is also a huge problem with equating Boho to “gypsy”.
The Czech people murdered us.
"Vi man sas ek bari familiya,
Murdadas la e kali legiya.”
"I once had a big family,
but the Black Legions murdered them.”
That is a line from our anthem. We may not have a nation, but we have an anthem and a flag. “Gypsy” people have been so greatly oppressed in the Czech Republic that this line made it into our anthem. The Black Legions were a military unit that opreated in the Czech Republic during World War Two. They are responsible for killing nearly ninety-percent of the “gypsy” populations in parts of the Czech Republic.
Not only have you offended me by trying to dress “gypsy”, but calling yourself a “boho-gypsy” just tore my heart into one million pieces.
Before you ask and I have to answer; yes. Yes. Yes, I had family in the Czech Republic and Hungary during World War Two. Yes, they died in concentration camps like Auschwitz and Lety.
We are Romani. We call ourselves Romani. We are the Romani people.
You cannot be “gypsy”. The only way you are “gypsy” is if you are from the Romani ethnic population. Perhaps in your next life you can be born to Romani parents and be “gypsy”, but not in this one. No, you simply cannot.
Why would you want to?
Why would anyone on Earth want to belong to the most oppressed and persecuted race of people on this planet?
I don’t have a choice. I cannot scrub my “gypsy” off. I cannot simply wake up and decide I no longer want to be “gypsy”. It’s my ethnicity.
There are similar words used in Central and Eastern Europe to describe us. They are akin to “gypsy”:
Zigeuner, Czigany, Tigane, Tsigane, etc..
I dare you go to Central and Eastern Europe and utter these words to a “gypsy”. I triple dog dare you. See how much they like their “gypsy” word.
It means slave. Tsigane means slave. Zigeuner means slave. Czigany means slave.
There is a similar word in every single European language of this region. They all mean slave.
Like “gypsy”, words similar to tsigane have been used as a means of oppression.
Maybe I can put this into persepctive.
In America, we do the same thing with the “N” word. Not me, personally, but I have heard it from countless Americans. Someone is “N” word rich, that car is “N” word rigged, don’t act like an “N” word.
The same is done with “gypsy” and “tsigane” in Europe. Don’t act ”gypsy” with me, it looks like “gypsies” live here, that’s such a “gypsy” thing.
Does it make sense now?
Please stop trying to be us. We are not flattered. What truly flatters Romani “gypsy” people is when others try to learn about our true culture. Please don’t argue with us & tell us that you know all about “gypsies” because you belly dance, read Tarot cards, or move a lot. If you really knew so much about “gypsies”, you would afford us the respect of not calling us a racial slur. You would know that there is no such thing as “gypsy” magic, that we are not dirty people who do not bathe, that we do not all steal, and that we have a beautiful culture.
No, you cannot be “gypsy”. Maybe in your next lifetime.
Why non-Romani people should NEVER EVER use the word g*psy.
reblogging for the white pagans who tried to argue this point with me.